The Journey
by Westel
Summary: There are other sentient beings on the Enterprise. Some of them believe themselves superior to the giant race who nest there - some want only to explore and find out just who these giants really are.


The Journey

by Westel

Ship's ventilation is a peculiar thing. Breathable air is scanned for bacteria, viruses, and other impurities, then filtered, decontaminated, warmed or cooled as required, and even scented before recirculating within the _Enterprise_. The system is tried, efficient, and the best yet designed, but even computer-monitored environmental systems can have their idiosyncrasies. As in Terran physiology, where diverse bacteria and viruses are accepted (or at least overlooked) by the autoimmune system, materials would occasionally escape detection by ship's monitors, specifically certain six-legged entities who made their home in the arboretum, feasting on the wide variety of flora and pollen there, and using the ventilation shafts as a personal transportation gridwork.

Once the routes to various turbolifts were discovered and mapped out, journeys to any part of the ship and back within an arthropod's lifetime were made possible, opening whole new vistas in vessel exploration. Prior to turbolift discovery, reams of information were often lost due to the simple fact that the explorer would die of old age before returning to home base.

Now all that had changed and Command was inundated by new cadets anxious to volunteer for exploratory missions. There were so many, in fact, that leaf-bound execs were called back into active duty to train cadets in groups of two or three. Such haphazard training often resulted in the loss of several cadets along the way, and sometimes the execs themselves didn't come back. This had little effect on the enthusiasm of the volunteers, however.

"Come along, Kryych, come along! This isn't a stroll in the grass," called the exec, his ponderous abdomen trailing in state behind him. Commander Bryyk had long since given up trying to hold it up with his creaky hind legs.

Kryych inched up cautiously behind the commander, alarmed at the echoing crescendo of the old fellow's belches. They had alternately crawled and flown into areas of the ship never before explored and now neared the top of the strange, saucer-shaped structure. Not even their most seasoned officers had dared approach this section; there was a subtle difference about the giants who nested in this level.

Kryych twitched a mandible, silently dreading the fresh onslaught of lectures concerning the poor development of this species they had come to observe. As they traversed various sections and levels on their long journey, Commander Bryyk took every opportunity to revile the strange, two-legged creatures, to point out their weaknesses and failures, and delineate evidence of puny brain development. Kryych secretly pondered the fact that if his teacher was correct in his observations, this species would have simply fallen prey to a swarm from another next long ago. His own observations seemed to indicate something else altogether. He warned himself, however, not to be too hasty. After all, he was just a cadet in training and not exactly in a position to question his superior – not yet.

Bryyk belched again. "Hmmph! That last bit of flotsam in the filters didn't sit right with me. Just doesn't muster up to the latifolia back home."

Kryych didn't reply, although he, too, would have liked to savor some homegrown meals for a change, instead of foraging the air circulation system for days-old pollen. Grumbling, however, was below a sturdy cadet and he kept his mandible closed.

They were coming up on something now, the light growing brighter as they neared a vent screen. Strange, electronic sounds emanated from the opening, echoing hollowly down the shaft behind them. Kryych's antennae arched forward in expectancy. Approaching the screen, its gridwork a myriad of doorways for the investigating insectoids, Bryyk squeezed his bulk through one of the openings. Kryych hesitated, not liking the vulnerability of a floor-level position. He found himself looking up, craning his neck at the sentient beings sitting or standing before what appeared to be monitoring stations of some kind.

"Kryych!" shouted the irascible exec and the nervous cadet slipped through the grid, feeling suddenly naked and iridescent in this vast room. He followed Bryyk to a wall panel and up its side, finally positioning himself with the commander next to an unused stylus.

"Pay close attention, plebe, and perhaps you'll learn something."

"Here it comes," groaned Kryych, his antennae flattening in hopelessness.

"We've apparently reached the hub of this nest, boy. By observing the creatures here, we'll get an impressive overview of the entire swarm. Look at the peripheral beings, for instance. They stand at one station, monitoring something on their individual panels, and communicating with others over some type of speaking device built into the panel. An advanced species like ourselves has no need for such devices, being able to communicate directly." He wiggled his antennae in demonstration.

"But, sir, does that necessarily connote inferiority? We have wings, but could not begin to traverse this giant vehicle as easily as they do with their elevator device. If the end is to arrive quickly at a given destination, then the means is of no consequence. Sir." Kryych added that hastily, knowing he ran the risk of irritating his dyspeptic superior even more by this outburst.

Bryyk's only response was a look of utter disgust, as if he were considering the source. He signed condescendingly and continued his observations as though Kryych had not spoken. "Let's concentrate on the more prominent entities here, cadet," he intoned. "The somber one opposite us, for instance. Note the intense concentration, the lack of companionship with his fellow beings. He is probably a neutered male, a drone, and scorned by those around him – merely an effective tool performing mundane duties. Expendable, of course."

Kryych watched the entity as it worked. He was intense, but isolated? No, he didn't think so. _See how he interacts with the dark-skinned female – they are perhaps coordinating some data at their respective work stations – she pulls her lips back at him, he raises his eyebrows. Hardly a scorning at all. Some sort of mating ritual, perhaps. . _. but Kryych kept his thoughts to himself.

"And just look at the two creatures near the screen. Is this species so deficient that it takes two of them to man one station? Highly inefficient, but considering the capabilities – or should I say, _in_capabilities – of these nestlings, I suppose it is the best they can do."

Kryych was becoming extremely irritated. This poor excuse for a commander would undoubtedly communicate inaccurate data to a bunch of eager neophytes who didn't know any better than to believe it all. It went without saying that no one would pay the least attention to a protesting plebe.

"Stop fidgeting, Kryych. One more observation and I think we'll have enough information to convince the Council we should begin colonization of the outlying areas of this ship immediately. Let me see. . . yes, the one who sits alone in the center of the room. The peripheral entities seem to answer to him. Even the somber one is deferential. This one must be the king, though he is not noticeably larger than the others – obviously, physical prowess plays no part in the hierarchy of this species. Still, he lacks for nothing and obviously enjoys the posturing of his subordinates."

Kryych cocked his head to one side. Bryyk was closer to the mark here, though blatantly wrong in one or two important points. This one _was_ in command, but the others were subject, not subservient, to him. His position was likely one of earned rank, not inheritance. And he seemed more alone than the somber one, though surrounded by so many. Isolated by his need to think independently, to run the great vessel, to make decisions which might run contrary to the opinions of those around him; he must sit alone, think alone, act alone. _As I might have to do_, thought the cadet. _Still, I may find support among other cadets or execs open-minded enough to make their own unbiased observations._ Even the highest-ranked needed someone with whom to share his innermost thoughts. The somber one, for instance, seemed to have an inexplicable connection with the commander/king, unstated, but sparkling in the air between them as if they had invisible antennae.

_Well! They are not so unlike us after all,_ he realized. Now, more than ever, he could not let the commander impart false information to the others, information which would lead to colonization, eventual discovery, and annihilation. This species didn't appear warlike, but he detected determination and a strong nest-protective instinct which translated into T-R-O-U-B-L-E if provoked. No, it was best to stay quietly in the botanical garden and live out the generations there. Perhaps, when the time was right, communication could be established. Meanwhile, they must outgrow and outlive the Bryyks of the world. . .

"Kryych! That's the third time I've spoken to you! His mind's obviously gone. Very well, consider yourself on report." Bryyk shook his head at all his wasted labour. "You'll never make it to command, boy. When I'm through with you, you'll be showing your backside to the academy!" He snorted disdainfully. "Time to go." Bryyk rose clumsily just as the dark female reached for the stylus. Kryych instinctively withdrew behind a toggle switch, but Bryyk was having difficulty heaving his ponderous bulk over the edge of the panel. Too late, he realized he'd been spotted.

"Oh! Goodness," Uhura yelped, dropping the stylus back onto the panel, where it rolled off the edge, taking the commander with it. Kryych watched silently from his hiding place.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" said another creature who had just come into the room and walked over to her.

"It's nothing, Scotty. I reached for the stylus there and something was next to it, wriggling. It startled me, that's all."

"I don't see anything, lass. Has it been a long shift for you, then?"

The female entity pulled her lips back at this one, too, as he bent to pick up the stylus. Kryych looked over to the somber one. He was oblivious to the conversation between these two, busy at his post. Pulling of the lips must have further meaning than male/female mating rituals; it would be interesting to study this facial maneuvering at some later date, but fist things first. He must leave his hiding place and locate his commander.

As if on cue, the two entities left the panel and he was able to skitter over the edge and scramble down the wall with all speed. When he reached the floor, just inches from the grid, he looked around for Bryyk but didn't see him immediately. _Commander_, he communicated, his antennae perfectly straight, but there was no reply. Walking to the grid, he stroked his legs together in a pre-arranged signal, the vibrations echoing for some distance down the shaft.

Nothing.

Perplexed, Kryych turned back into the room, dodging the footfalls of a creature edging its way around the perimeter of the room, hands behind him. The cadet noticed, offhandedly, that the center chair was empty. Suddenly, as he moved forward again, he saw a damp spot on the floor, slightly green, somewhat familiar. He knew, without looking any closer – nor did he want to – that this was all that was left of at least one source of bigotry and species bias. For all of Bryyk's intense hatred and revulsion for this sentient species they had come to observe, it mattered no more now than a greasy spot on the carpet.

Kryych saluted the commander's memory, able to appreciate the old exec's navigational ability and thankful he had learned so well from him. Then, as he made his way once more to the ventilation grid, he glanced over his shoulder, looking straight into the eyes of the commander/king, who was just resuming his center chair. The creature stared back at Kryych a moment, then hit a switch on the chair arm.

"Environmental Engineering, this is the captain."

Kryych didn't move but his antennae were straight up. _You have your responsibilities, king, and I have mine. Until a better meeting. . ." _

He turned again and exited through the vent.

"Environmental Engineering, Robson here."

Kirk hesitated, watching the six-legged creature pause before disappearing through the grid. "Robson, check out the ventilation shaft monitors. . ." He trailed of, feeling some empathic touch, a sense of _being understood_. He stared at the grid – had he just experienced some kind of mind touch with an insect?

"Naaah!"

"Sir?"

Kirk cleared his throat. "Uh, belay that, Robson. I'll – get back to you, if necessary. Kirk out." The commander/king looked intently at the grid for a long moment before dragging his eyes back to the viewscreen.

And in the ventilation shaft, Kryych began his journey back from where no arthropod had gone before. . .

End


End file.
